


The New Life of James Gatz

by Cappuccino_Warrior



Category: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fix-It of Sorts, Get Together, Internalized Homophobia, Jay changes his name back, Kinda, M/M, Overuse of "old sport", POV First Person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-08-24 04:13:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16632710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cappuccino_Warrior/pseuds/Cappuccino_Warrior
Summary: What if Jay didn’t stay at home following the car accident? What if Nick had offered him shelter? What would happen if Jay Gatsby had died, but James Gatz came back to life?Or, the fix-it fic where Nick made one decision that changed everything.





	1. The Day After

The day following the incident of Myrtle Wilson’s death, I became more worried about Gatsby than I cared to say. I knew him well enough to know he was not as well as he claimed. Anyone would have been shaken up by such an event; why he felt the need to pretend otherwise was beyond me. Although, I supposed he was used to pretending.

Needless to say, I didn’t want to leave him alone after something like that. So I called him at about noon. When the butler brought him to the phone, his weak “Hello, old sport” gave me some indication of how he was doing.

“Hello, Gatsby,” I said. “I wondered if you’d like to come over for tea today.” 

Gatsby hesitated. “Maybe. I’m a bit tired today.”

“I thought you would be. I -- I worried about you, being alone in that huge house,” I confessed.

“You needn’t worry. I’ll be all right.”

“I’m sure you will. I just thought you might benefit from some company.”

He hesitated again. “You could be right. I suppose I’ll come by.”

I relaxed a little. “Good to hear it. Just come when you’re ready,” I said.

“I will. See you soon, old sport.” He hung up.

About half an hour later, I heard a knock at the door. I answered, and sure enough, there was Gatsby, standing at the door in a crisp light blue suit. Other than his outfit (which was perfect, per usual), he looked terrible. I told him so, though in nicer terms.

He gave me a tight smile. “I know.”

“Anyway, come in. You can go ahead and sit down. I’ll put the tea on.” Gatsby nodded at me and sank down into an armchair. I walked into the kitchen and put the kettle on, feeling distracted. I had hoped to ease my worry for him by checking in, but instead my anxieties increased. He seemed worse than I anticipated.

When the tea was done, I brought the tray out and sat it on the coffee table. “Sugar?” I asked.

He jerked up, as if he had been interrupted. “Oh. Yes, thank you.” He took the spoon and absentmindedly mixed in the sugar for longer than was necessary.

I took a few sips of tea. Gatsby kept stirring. My brow creased harder. Finally, I couldn’t stand it. I put my teacup down, leaned over, and placed my hand lightly on his hand where it gripped the teacup. He stopped stirring and looked over. “I think… I think that’s enough stirring,” I said.  
Gatsby laughed a little. He set the tea down. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I was doing that.”

“Don’t apologize,” I said. Noticing that my hand was still on his, I quickly pulled it back, folding my hands in my lap. He looked so sad. I wished intensely that I could wrap my arms around him to comfort him. I brushed off the thought and instead asked tentatively, “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

Gatsby sighed and shook his head. “Not today, Old Sport. For now I think I’ll drink my tea.”

And so he did. We finished our tea quietly. Well, we intended to. While we drank tea in silence, the phone rang. My Finnish maid appeared in the sitting room doorway a moment later. “Mr. Gatsby, for you,” she said. He stood up and took the phone.

I gripped my teacup and watched Gatsby. “Hello,” he said weakly. I pretended to mind my own business, but I had to listen. “Yes,” he said after a few seconds. Then, his face went totally white.

He was silent for a few more moments. “Oh,” he said. His voice quivered as he said into the telephone, “Notify the police. I’ll be over soon.”

I felt like a jolt of electricity had traveled through my veins. I stood up quickly, grabbing the end of the coffee table to steady myself.

“Gatsby?” I said as I rushed over.

He set down the phone and turned toward me. His eyes were glassy, like he was about to faint. I reached forward and gently gripped his arm. He remained quiet. “Gatsby, what happened? Are you all right?”

“Fine,” he said weakly. “I have to -- where’s my coat?”

I got Gatsby’s coat from the rack for him. He took it, thanking me weakly. Gatsby stepped to my door, but then stopped. Slowly, he looked back at me. I saw something in his eyes which was totally new. He looked afraid.

“Will you…” started Gatsby, almost in a whisper. “If it’s not too much trouble, would you come with me? I don’t exactly want to be alone… you see, a -- a man broke into my house--”

“Of course I’ll come,” I said.

“Thank you,” sighed Gatsby.

Gatsby walked incredibly slowly all the way to his house. I understood; I didn’t feel so confident myself. But I continued on, for Gatsby’s sake.

I remember walking with Gatsby into his house that afternoon. The rest was a blur.

First it was quiet. The sun shone through the big windows. Gatsby’s butler said something to us; I can’t recall what. And then we saw the body. We saw the gun.

Sirens rang loudly in my ears. Police swarmed through the house, examining the intruder’s body, questioning the butler, but never talking to Gatsby. He stayed by my side the entire time.

By the time anyone figured out what had happened, darkness had descended on West Egg. The police talked to us just long enough to say we needed to leave the scene for the night.

Gatsby’s house was officially a crime scene, meaning that he had to find another place to stay. Of course, I let him stay with me. The last thing I remember is making up the bed in my guest room for him, only to find him moments later, asleep on my couch. I smiled, tired and burnt out. I got a blanket and laid it over Gatsby’s shoulders.

“Goodnight, Gatsby,” I said, in case he could hear me.

His eyes fluttered open. Looking up at me, he muttered, “C’n call me James. That's my real name, you know...” then drifted off.


	2. The Investigation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick and James have an important conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the positive feedback on Chapter 1! New chapter coming soon; I'll try to update within a week or two.

The police and detectives who investigated Gatsby’s -- sorry, James’s -- house were quick in their work. They shared minimal information with him, saying they wished to protect the security of the investigation until its conclusion. Still, he told me what he knew, usually over dinner in the evening. (He had to stay with me until the investigation’s end; it wasn’t like I minded, though.)

First, the body was identified as George Wilson -- Myrtle Wilson’s husband. Second, the cause of death was determined: suicide. But the thing that took the longest to identify was Wilson’s motive. Why had he broken into the house if his intent had only been to kill himself?

“So you see,” said James one night as we ate, “they think he was trying to kill me. I asked if they could leave it at that, but they still want to know more…” he put his head in his hands and sighed.

“They won’t let you cancel the investigation?” I asked.

“Well, I can, but they think it might be better to learn more. Try to prove their theories or something along those lines.” He paused to eat another spoonful of soup, then continued. “And I don’t want to be difficult, especially not when it comes to the police.”

I nodded. I knew why James wouldn’t want trouble with the police, but I wouldn’t mention it. We rarely talked, except about the investigation. My worries over him grew. He was so quiet and reserved, unusually so. That night, I decided to admit my worries.

As he stood up to go to the guest room, I stood too and stepped in front of him. “Jay -- er, James, could we talk?”

“Of -- of course,” he stammered, mildly surprised. “Why don’t we go to the sitting room?”

“All right.” I followed him in. We sat next to each other on the loveseat. Close. Maybe uncomfortably close. I didn’t move away.

“What did you want to talk about?” said James.

I pressed my lips together. It took me a moment to remember what I was going to say. “I’m… worried about you.”

James looked at me. “Nick,” he said softly. “There’s no reason to worry about me.”

I swallowed hard. That was the first time he had called me by my first name. I almost couldn’t continue. Somehow I did. “Yes there is. Ever since the crash--”

“I haven’t been the same?”

“Exactly,” I said. “You don’t talk as much anymore. You seem so upset all the time. And I understand why you would be, but it doesn’t stop me from worrying,” I said.

“Don’t worry. I don’t want you to worry.” James’s voice was gentle.

“There’s not a lot I can do, I suppose. Unless there’s some way I can help.”

James sighed. “I wouldn’t want to put my troubles on your shoulders.”

“I don’t mind. Really.” I smiled sadly. “You can talk to me about anything.”

“I don’t know that I can, old sport,” said James. “Although it might not hurt to get a few things off my chest… then again…”

I shrugged. “Go ahead. I’ve been told I’m a good listener.” I didn’t mean for it to sound like a brag; I was only being honest.

“All right.” James hesitated, then began a long ramble…

“Solitude seems like the best thing now. I lived alone for so long. I thought it would end with Daisy and I. I thought she would love me again. And -- and this is how it turned out. With me all alone again.

“I don’t know if I ever really loved her. Maybe that’s why I wanted her to return to me. I had something to prove to myself? All I know is that I did so much for her, just because I hoped, I dreamed, she would return. I spent every day thinking about her. I don’t know if that’s love.

“There’s so much I’ve done wrong. There’s so much I can’t forgive myself for. Who knows -- if it wasn’t for me, George Wilson might still be alive.”

“Don’t say that!” I nearly shouted. “You weren’t driving that car. Don’t blame yourself.”

“I let Daisy drive. If I hadn’t done that--”

“You didn’t know, James.”

He stared at me, eyes wide. “It’s not just that,” he whispered. “There’s one other thing. Something I can’t forgive myself for.”

“What is it?”

His voice wavered as he confessed: “I used you, Nick. I used you to get to Daisy. I wish that wasn't the case. I just had to tell you. I used you and I’m so sorry. I understand if you don’t forgive me. I wouldn’t if I were you.”

I laughed weakly. “You think I didn’t already know that?”

“What? I--”

“Of course I knew. I’m not stupid. Why else would someone like you befriend someone like me?”

“But I’ve come to care for you. That’s why I feel so awful about it.”

I looked down at my knees, certain that I was blushing.

“Wait,” said James after a moment. “If you knew that I was only using you, why did you stay?”

I knew exactly why. I didn’t want to lie to him, but the truth wasn’t something I could reveal; not now, most likely not ever. So I told him a half-truth. “Because I like you. I think very highly of you. When it seemed you needed a friend, I wanted to be there for you,” I said.

James shuffled nervously. He looked up at me, then down at his hands. “Thank you, old sport. That’s very… kind of you.” He stood up and dusted off his jacket. “I’m grateful that you’ve stuck by my side through all this. You’re a good man.”

He had gone through the doorway and was on his way to bed before I called, “You too,” his way.


	3. The Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick has a dream that makes him think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring Emotional!Nick (read: emo nick)

“Nick,” I hear. “Nick, come here.”

“James?”

“Come here. I want you to see this.”

I feel myself in a warm room full of sunlight. I follow James’s voice.

We meet in a garden. I can smell flowers in bloom. Everything is bright.

“Where are you, Nick?”

“Right here, James.” And there he is. I can see his smile, and he wraps his arms around me. I feel nervous. “What are you doing?”

“Is it all right if I touch you like this?”

“Yes.”

James is holding me close. I’m safe.

His hands drop to my waist. I press closer. James caresses my face gently, and now he’s kissing me. It’s wonderful. But… I want more. He pulls me even closer, so our bodies are pressed together. And now I feel hot, and I’m drifting away...

~~~

I woke up in the middle of the night. I had my bedsheets twisted around me and beads of sweat on my face. Suddenly I was very cold. I realized what had happened, jumping out of bed to quickly change clothes.

When I crawled back into bed, I sighed. I was no stranger to dreams of this nature. They served as another reminder of my condition, this unchangeable fact of my life. For a long time I had been used to them, but this dream was different. This dream was James. It was not as easy to conceal my desires when the one I wanted lived with me.

The situation had become worse after my encounter with McKee. That was the first time I allowed myself to act on my desires with another man. Now that I knew what it was like to fulfill the physical longing, I yearned for it even more. Not just with anyone, but with James.

For I wanted James more than I ever wanted anyone. His physical beauty was matched only by the beauty of his soul. I adored him, and I struggled to keep up the facade of caring for him only as a friend. I feared the consequences if I let something slip.

As I fell back into sleep that night, I thought: Why do I always fall for those who will never feel the same way?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it's an emotional ramble with no real plot points. Hope you all liked this chapter anyway.


	4. News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James cancels the investigation.

“Good morning, old sport!” said James later that morning. He sat at the kitchen table in his lavish silk robe, sipping coffee and looking unusually happy.

“Good morning,” I said groggily. I poured myself coffee and sat across from him.

“I have good news,” James said. He leaned over the table. “I’m cancelling the investigation! I’m going to call the detective later today.”

He was grinning, so I couldn’t help myself but to smile also. However, I was very confused. “That’s… good, I think, but I have to ask you, why?”

The smile vanished. “Well, ah,” James began. “I… it’s, uh, it’s hard to explain. I suppose I just didn’t want to know the whole story. I have my ideas about what happened. But I believe this whole investigation is more trouble than it’s worth.”

“What do you mean?”

James sighed. “I already know Wilson wanted to kill me; I have my own theory as to why. And really, that’s all I wanted to know. Besides, if I’m being honest, I don’t want the police looking into my personal life any more than they have to.”

“Oh,” I said. “That makes sense.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. I drank some coffee.

“Nick, I want to move,” said James suddenly.

“Move… out? Back to your house?” I asked. “Well, if the investigation is called off, there’s no reason for you to keep living here.” I tried not to let the tone of my voice betray my disappointment.

“You misunderstood. I don’t want to move back to my house. I want to move out of New York.”

My heart sank even lower. Out of New York? How would I be able to see him if he lived so far away? I swallowed. “Why?” I asked.

“This city is sucking the life out of me, old sport,” said James with a sigh. He was no longer smiling. The cheer which had tinted his voice moments ago was now gone. “It’s full of criminals and liars. I find that I no longer wish to be a criminal and a liar.”

I hesitated. I thought I understood. “Is that… is that why you wanted me to call you James?”

“Precisely,” he said. “The part of me that was Gatsby, it was built on lies. Lies I told to gain the love of a woman I never really wanted.”

“Ah,” I said, nodding.

James continued. “You see, NIck, this chapter of my life is ending. I plan to start living an honest life somewhere new.”

“Where will you go?”

James gazed absentmindedly over my shoulder. “Paris,” he said, “or maybe Rome. Someplace like that. Someplace artistic. Alive.”

I nodded again and stared silently at my coffee cup. James was still speaking. “Naturally, there’s a lot of planning to do for a move like this. I suppose a few weeks will be necessary to make arrangements.” He paused, and I noticed that he was staring at me. He frowned. “What’s the matter?”

“Hmm?” I said. “What do you mean?”

“You look blue. What’s the matter?” James said gently.

I briefly considered my next words. I decided on honesty. “I’m happy for you, James. I’m only worried -- if you move to Europe, we’ll never see each other again.” I creased my brow. “And we’ve only just really gotten to know each other,” I added more quietly.

At this, a grin spread across James’s face. “Well then, old sport,” he said, “how’d you like to come with me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your support of this work! I'm having a lot of fun writing it. I don't really have a strict posting schedule, but you can probably expect the next chapter sometime next week.


	5. Rush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are made and friendships are discussed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait for this chapter! The holiday season has been, and continues to be, pretty hectic. So I'm not sure when the next one will be out either. Hope you enjoy this one.

As soon as the police were ordered to leave, the press arrived. I’m not sure as to how George Wilson’s break-in and subsequent death became a public affair, but it did. The whole thing quickly became tiring.

James initially refused to speak to the press. However, his mounting annoyance began to show, and he scheduled a meeting with some reporters. “Just to get it over with, then maybe they’ll leave me alone,” James told me. From what I read in the papers the next day, the interview began with a few intrusive questions about the event, and ended with James telling the reporter where he could stick his microphone. (Well, that part wasn’t in the paper, but he told me about it as soon as he got home, an immature smile plastered on his face.)

I laughed with him in spite of myself. James’s smile always was a weakness of mine, as much as I didn’t like to admit it.

The two weeks following this went by in a rush. James kept fending off the press every time they tried to snag an interview. We had constant phone calls from many different people. Some were from the media; some had worked with James; some claimed relation to him, though they had never met.

Once, James even got a call from Daisy.

We were enjoying a brief moment of quiet, drinking tea at the kitchen table. The telephone on the counter rang. My maid picked it up, answered, then brought it to us.

“For you, Mr. Gatz. It is Mrs. Buchanan,” she said.

James put down his teacup. His face went white. He stood and walked to the telephone, reaching out as if to pick it up, but he pulled his hand back after a short moment. “Tell her -- tell here I’m not here,” James said nervously, hands gripped behind his back. My maid nodded and did as she was told, then exited the room.

A tense silence hung over us through the following moments. Once he finished his cup of tea, James sighed and said as if to himself, “I wonder what she had to say.”

“You could’ve answered,” I said.

“No, no, I couldn’t have,” James said gently. “There’s… too much hurt there, between Daisy and I. I need to leave it in the past.”

I nodded in understanding. “That’s probably the best thing you can do now.”

“I’m glad you understand, Nick,” James said. He smiled his golden smile at me. I smiled back. Then he went a bit serious.

“You know something, old sport? I never had many friends. I was lonely as a child. And you know the people I spent my time with in the past few years. They didn’t care about me.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Don’t be. I guess what I wanted to say was, thank you for being true to me. You’re the only real friend I’ve ever had.” He stared down at the table. “I apologize for getting sentimental.”

I hesitated. “You’re the only real friend I’ve ever had either.”

James smiled again, and I could feel my heart melting. “I suppose sentiment can be all right sometimes,” he said as he stood up to take our teacups to the sink.

I followed him. “Here, let me wash those.”

As I washed the dishes, James gave me some exciting news. “This morning I called and got our tickets for the ship reserved. We’re sailing to Le Havre next Friday, and then it’s off to Paris.” He paused. “That is, if you haven’t changed your mind?” he added worriedly.

“Of course not,” I said.

“Good,” he said.

As I had just finished washing and drying our cups and saucers, James remained by my side. He stared at me intensely. “Nick, I…” he began. “I mean, you…”

“Yes? What is it?” I asked.

“Nothing. I’m just glad all our plans are coming together.”

“So am I.”

“But…” He shook his head. “Never mind. Carry on.”

I wondered what he had intended to say. I briefly let myself entertain the idea of him reciprocating my long-concealed feelings. It seemed more likely to me now than it had a few weeks previously. Still, I let the notion go, giving myself a stern reminder not to let those emotions show under any circumstance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays, everyone! To those of you who celebrate it, make the Yuletide gay :)


	6. Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys arrive in la Ville des Lumières, and Nick receives mixed signals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update delay... I'm sorry :( School started back up, so I've had minimal time to write and edit. Hence the short length of this chapter. I'm trying to get better about regular updates, I promise!

I was seasick all through the boat trip to France. At least my quarters were nice and comfortable, thanks to James’s money, so I felt awful in between soft blankets. This meant I missed out on the luxuries of the trip. I didn’t care all that much; I wasn’t one for that kind of thing. Besides, I felt too ill to care much about anything except for sleeping.

A little over a week passed before we arrived in Le Havre. I felt much better once I was off that rocking, sickening ship.

James seemed incredibly excited all through the automobile ride to our hotel in Paris. He looked over at me, wide-eyed. “I forgot to tell you, we’re meeting a real estate agent next week. I didn’t want to waste any time in looking for an apartment.”

I nodded slowly. “Good thinking.” I yawned. “Sorry… still a bit tired from the trip.

“So am I. I think I’ll sleep when we get to Paris, what about you?”

Next I remember waking up in the car. James was shaking me. “Wake up, old sport! We’re here.”

As soon as we got into our hotel room, James and I both slept. When I woke, the sun was sinking in the soft orange sky. I stretched out groggily, eventually getting up. I went over to the big window across from the two beds.

Spread before me was a picturesque view of the Paris skyline. I wondered how much this view had cost James? I tossed the thought aside. That reminded me -- the sunset wouldn’t last for very long; James might want to see this gorgeous view. I walked over to his bed and stood there for a moment, admiring his peaceful ease. Feeling suddenly as if I was doing something very wrong, I stopped staring in order to gently shake James awake.

“Morning already?” he murmured.

“No, but there’s something I think you should see,” I said.

James stood up slowly, grabbing hold of my arm to keep steady. “All right. What is it...?” He squinted at the light from across the room.

I led him to the window. His eyes widened as he took it all in. “Quite a view,” said James. I nodded.

We stayed quiet for a few minutes as the sun slowly made its way down below the skyline. The golden light of dusk began to fade, and as darkness fell onto the City of Lights, I felt sure I saw a green light flicker in a far-off window.

The room had gone dark. I turned on a lamp. I expected James to want to go back to bed, but he stayed at the window one moment more.

I hesitated at his side. “Are you… are you thinking about her?” I asked, trying to sound like a curious, concerned friend rather than a jealous one.

“Oh no, old sport,” said James. He paused. “I’m moving on. Moving away and moving on, fitting… Anyway, I shouldn’t waste my thoughts on someone who doesn’t care for me.” His bright blue eyes were fixed on me. “Especially not when there are so many better things to think about now.”

I met his gaze, fidgeting slightly. “Like Paris,” I said. “It’s a beautiful place.”

“That it is.” James smiled slightly.

“There’s so much to see. I want to explore the whole city…” With you, I thought. There was a part of me that wished I had been brave enough to say that aloud. But it was just as well that I didn’t, since James had already crawled back in bed.


	7. City Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Nick buy an apartment, then go out to celebrate. Later, Nick makes a mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I'm not the type to stick to an update schedule, huh? Sorry about that... Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Let me know what you think.

The next day, James and I went out together to explore the city. I had never gotten a chance to see Paris like this before, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. We saw all the famous landmarks. We even strolled down the streets together, darting in and out of shops as we pleased. Even the magnificent City of Lights looked not quite so beautiful next to James.

I wish I could say I was without worry as we toured the city, but I was not. At that time more than ever, I feared I would let my feelings for James show. I scolded myself for ever agreeing to move here with him, even though I loved it. Every day I spent with him was another day I might get myself into terrible trouble. I feared it greatly.

Yet I continued to spend time with him. Paris had put silly romantic notions into my mind -- notions of a grand love story in which I might finally achieve the life I had always wanted, with James by my side.

I let myself indulge in these notions, trying to forget that they were impossible. People with my condition did not often live happy lives.

The week after we arrived in Paris, James and I began looking for an apartment. I let James go to most of the meetings and tours with the broker alone. I told him I trusted he would find a place well suited to the both of us.

He did. One afternoon he came back to our room beaming after talking with the broker. “Nick, the papers are going through! The place I told you about is going to be ours!”

I smiled back at him. “That’s wonderful,” I said.

“Oh, you really must see it. My description can’t possibly do it justice. And I told Jacques to be ready to put the sale on hold at a moment’s notice if you don’t like it, so he’ll be a bit annoyed if I don’t show you right away!”

“If you like it that much, I’m sure I’ll agree, but all right, let’s go,” I said.

James took me to the penthouse apartment of a fashionable building in a fashionable neighborhood. It was really gorgeous, just as James said. There were two bedrooms, a large kitchen, and a nice parlor, all full of French charm. I felt myself swell with joy at the thought of the two of us living here together.

When we returned to the hotel, James called Jacques, the broker, and told him to finalize the sale as soon as possible. He hung up, then turned to me with a golden smile. “Say, old sport, why don’t we go celebrate?” he asked, sounding as if he was about to invite me to a party at his mansion back in New York.

“Where do you suggest?” I said.

“I know of a nice cocktail lounge nearby. I used to go there the last time I visited Paris. If you’d like, we could go.”

“I thought you didn’t drink,” I said.

“Not anymore. I used to. There’s also live music at the lounge, food too, and people to meet. It would be nice to make some acquaintances, don’t you think?”

“That does sound nice,” I agreed, though I still wasn’t sure going there was a good idea. James seemed excited about the place, and if it would make him happy, I didn’t mind going. “All right, why not.”

And the smile came over his face again. I smiled back, warmth spreading through me. “I’ll go put on some nicer clothes,” said James.

“I should too,” I said.

After a while, we both left the hotel, looking sharp in our best suits. I must admit I was looking forward to going out with James.

A few minute’s drive later, we arrived at the cocktail lounge. It was a nice place, with lively musicians playing lively music on a stage in the corner. In the low light, I could see the bar on the other side of the large room. Between the bar and the stage, there was a large area furnished by tables and sofas, at which many people were eating, drinking, and conversing.

“Ah, this brings back memories!” James said to me over the noise. “What do you think? Do you like it?”

“It’s great,” was all I could say. With a nod, James led me over to a small sofa beside a table, between the bar and a wide window looking out onto the bright Paris street.

“I think I see someone I know over there,” said James. “Is it all right if I go talk to him?”

“Of course. You don’t have to ask me,” I said. “I’ll go get something to drink while you two talk…” I mumbled the last part, mostly to myself.

As it turned out, James spent a lot of time talking to his old friend. Not only that, but he seemed to be getting acquainted with several other people as well. I could barely make out their voices from across the room. They were talking and laughing happily.

I ordered another drink.

Certainly James would return soon, I told myself. He couldn’t have forgotten that I was there… could he?

I got a third drink while I was waiting. James still didn’t return. I felt dizzy.

I took a deep breath and decided to go talk to James by myself. I didn’t want to spend the whole night drinking alone, after all. So I walked over to the group of people surrounding James. He was telling a story, it seemed, but I had trouble hearing his words because of the music. It was loud there next to the stage.

In the middle of what he was saying, James’s eyes met mine, but he did not acknowledge me. He went on with his story, entertaining the men and women gathered around him. He didn’t look at me again.  
I went back to the bar and downed another drink. The room seemed to spin and blur with all the movement around me. My head felt light, like it might float away. The bartender wouldn’t let me have a fifth drink, making some comment about my ability to hold liquor. I scoffed at him.

After some time had passed, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I spun around. There was James, staring at me apologetically. “Hello, Nick. Sorry about that. I had to wait until I could leave the conversation.”

“I see,” I said distantly.

“Are you all right? You seem… odd,” said James.

“Fine.” I was aware that I didn’t sound fine.

“Are you sure?”

“James, I’m--” I growled, “--fine. I said I’m fine.”

James creased his brow. “You look like you need some fresh air, old sport. Why don’t we step outside, just for a moment?”

“Why?” I asked angrily, but I was already following James outside.

We stood a short distance from the entrance of the lounge, tucked in a corner of the walls beside the building’s door. James held tightly to my arm. He gave me a concerned look. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Is something wrong? I’m truly sorry I left you alone like that -- it was wrong of me -- I got preoccupied --”

James’s flustered apologies stirred my resentment even more. Why did he take me with him to Paris if he was only planning to ignore me? I thought we were close. I was dizzy and confused and angry and nothing made sense, and James kept on talking.

Just another excuse for leaving my by myself when we were meant to be celebrating. Another apology. I stared him down.

“Nick, please forgive me. I didn’t mean to make you upset, really I --”

I knew what he was about to say, and I didn’t let him finish saying it. Out of nowhere, I grabbed his face and kissed him.

As soon as I let go, the world collapsed around me. I realized what I had done. James gaped at me, eyes wide in shock.

“I think I ought to go,” I mumbled. I ran down to the corner and hailed a taxi. As soon as I returned to the hotel room, I got into bed and hid under the blankets. I tried to sleep, but all I could think about was how I had just done what I was afraid I would do. I had ruined everything. I had let it show. James would never look at me the same way -- if he could even bring himself to look at me. I quickly determined that I must book a trip back to New York as soon as possible. I had to leave Paris. I had to leave James.

I felt sick to my stomach, and not from the alcohol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, sitting down to write this chapter: I wonder what this should be about.
> 
> Me to myself: Just get the point already, for god's sake, Tom!


	8. Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick and James talk about what happened. Nick runs away from his problems.

The next morning I awoke with a terrible headache. For a moment, I thought that maybe the events of the previous night had just been a bad dream. Oh, that it were so. Unfortunately, I quickly realized that was not the case.

My eyes immediately fell on James, who was sitting on the bed across from mine, already dressed. He stared at me, tapping his foot lightly on the floor. “Oh, you’re awake,” he said nervously.

I sat up at once, ignoring my pounding head and the ringing in my ears. I stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. “Nick? Are you all right?” called James.

I felt as if all the problems in the world had come crashing down on me at the same exact time. The room seemed to spin as I remembered, and as I looked at what the future would hold. Leaving. I was leaving today. With that thought in mind, I steadied myself, breaths coming heavy and ragged. All I had to do was dress and leave, I told myself. It was that easy.

Then something occurred to me. Surely James remembered what happened the previous night. Surely he was just as upset as me, if not more so. So why was he being kind? Did he expect me to talk about it? I sighed. I had hoped he would be asleep when I woke, but since he was awake, I owed it to him to talk before simply leaving.

I hesitantly stepped out from the bathroom and tried to get my shirt and pants, but James stopped me. “Can I talk with you?” he asked.

“May I get dressed first?”

“O-of course,” said James. He let go of my arm.

When I came back, James was sitting on his bed with his hands folded in his lap, still looking very nervous. I took a deep breath and tried to prepare myself for the conversation to come. I was shaking.

James looked like he was at a loss for words. So I started. “James, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I suppose I wasn’t thinking at all. I’ll leave now, unless there’s something you really want to say.”

“Leave? Where are you going?” asked James.

“I - I don’t know. I can find another hotel before I get a ticket back home.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

I stared at him, dumbfounded. “What kind of question is that? I can’t stay in that apartment with you after… that.” I looked at the floor. “I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh.” There was a tense silence. “I see.”

Then another silence. I twisted the hem of my shirt nervously. “If you have nothing more to say, I’ll go now,” I said.

“No, I…” James started. “I do have something… but I don’t know how to say it.” He was looking at me; I could feel it. I couldn’t meet his eyes. After a moment, he continued. “I want you to stay here. Of course, if you’re really set on going, I can’t stop you. I just thought you should know you don’t have to leave. I...” His voice trailed off.

“I do. I do have to leave. I can’t stay here. It wouldn’t work, after that. Things would all be different. Again, I’m sorry. I only ask that you won’t tell anyone else about this. I hope you don’t hate me now.”

“I couldn’t hate you, Nick. I don’t think you understand that I could never hate you, not ever. You think too little of me. This doesn’t have to ruin us.”

“But it does. It’s just the way things are.”

“It doesn’t! It’s not!” James declared almost aggressively. When I finally looked up at him, I saw his eyes were glistening. “Nick, you should’ve known. I’ve always felt the same way about you that you felt about me. You should’ve known… I tried to tell you…”

I felt as if my heart had just stopped. He couldn’t really mean that could he? Of course not -- he just wanted me to stay. He was just lonely and wanted a friend. Well, I couldn’t be there for him anymore. “James, don’t say those things. I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity, it’s how I feel,” he said softly. He was crying. I thought I might cry too. “Why don’t you believe me?”

We sat there for a moment, James looking at me while I looked at the floor, scarcely daring to move. “I can’t do this right now. I have to go. I’ll come back when I’m ready.”

“Don’t…” said James, but I was already halfway out the door.

I caught a cab and went to my favorite cafe. I didn’t enjoy my breakfast as much as usual. I had too much on my mind. I ate slowly, had my coffee, and read my book, trying my hardest to distract myself with little success. I read the same sentence over and over because I couldn’t get the meaning out of it. Finally, I gave up in frustration, finished my food without tasting it, drank the last drop of my coffee, and left the cafe.

Next, I went to a nearby park. I sat at a bench under a tree and considered everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. I remembered James’s question to me:  _ Why don’t you believe me? _

Why didn’t I believe James? Was it so unbelievable that he could feel the same way? Had I been too blind to see it?

I thought about all the things James had done since I knew him. After he left Daisy in the past, he moved in with me. We began spending nearly all our time together, and both of us seemed to enjoy the company. I didn’t think much of it at the time, since I saw his behavior as that of a friend. Was it more, and I just didn’t notice?

He  _ did  _ ask me to move to Paris with him, spend all our time together, and share an apartment. Admittedly, that was a little unusual for friends. I wondered if he knew that relationships between men were legal in France and hardly anywhere else. It might just be a coincidence.

Then, the most compelling point came to mind. Did I trust James? Did I really think he would lie to me about something as important as this? Ever since George Wilson died, James had been totally honest with me as a part of his new self. Why would that change now?

I made up my mind then. I headed back to the hotel, ready to believe James.

He was still there when I returned, sitting in the armchair with a newspaper and a cup of tea. When I came in, he put them down. I walked over to where he was and sat down on the edge of the bed across from the armchair. “Hello,” I said.

“Hello,” said James.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. If you’re really serious… if you’re really telling the truth…”

“I am,” he murmured.

“Then I won’t go.”

James smiled a little. “I’m glad,” he said.

“So am I,” I said. “I really didn’t want to, honestly.”

“I know,” said James.

“What should we do now that all that’s out of the way?” I asked.

“I had an idea…”

“Oh?”

James got up and then sat down next to me on the bed. I wasn’t afraid to look him in the eye anymore. I still couldn’t believe he felt the same way. It was too good to be true. I worried the moment would slip away and I would wake up, and James would ask me to leave after all. Yet I knew I wasn’t dreaming as James closed the space between us.

Our first kiss was rushed, angry, and unexpected. This kiss was not. This kiss was slow, deliberate, and sweet. When it ended, James smiled at me, and I felt that the world was so bright and beautiful I could hardly stand it. My heart swelled with joy as he pulled me into an embrace. Things were finally as they should be, as I’d hoped for so long that they would be.

“Nick, you’re so beautiful,” James said after a short moment. “God, I’ve waited so long to tell you.”

“No one in the world’s as beautiful as you,” I said, grinning stupidly.

“You’re wrong, but I won’t argue,” he said. “I’m so happy everything is all right, and we’re together again. I was so worried you would leave.”

“You don’t have to worry anymore. I won’t leave you. I was wrong to even say I would.”

“I understand why you said it.” James rested his head on my shoulder. “Just promise me you won’t. You had me scared.”

“I promise I won’t leave you. Not ever. I’d be a fool to.” I smiled and kissed him again. Everything was all right now. I never felt happier than I did in that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your support! Your comments make me so happy. I hope you all liked this chapter.


End file.
